I feel out of place in this house.
At 3 a.m., it’s almost silent. It’s almost completely dark. Because it’s not my house, I notice every little sound and every faint glowing light on electronic devices. But the only sound I really notice is the quiet, rhythmic breathing of my sleeping friend in the next room.
I haven’t slept much this week, because I’ve been sitting up at night with a friend who had major surgery last week for life-threatening cancer.
I’m not much of a nurse, but that’s not why I’m here. She just needs someone to help her get to a bathroom every hour or two. She has drain lines to clean and empty. Incisions to clean and bind. Medications to take. Pain to endure.
I’m just here to help her stand and then to lie back down. To move a bandaged leg that can’t move much on its own. To make sure she doesn’t fall.
As she sleeps in unpredictable intervals, I have a lot of time to think. Since I’ve known this friend since we were both children, you would think I would be worrying about the stage 4 cancer that threatens her life. But that’s not where my thoughts are tonight.
Instead, I’m thinking about my own life.
Maybe that means I’m selfish. Or maybe it just means I’m human. Or maybe it’s God’s way of putting me into an uncomfortable place of asking myself questions that scare me.

Is this what happens when you teach children there are no absolutes?
Moral priorities: ‘If we free the slaves, who will pick the cotton?’
Deputies too busy to work accidents, but have time to raid bingo halls
Do people change? Or do we just learn how to manage our faults?
Against all rational choice of will, an old hunger in my heart returns
Briefly: Comic perfectly captured what I wrote about this weekend
What if other people see you or hear you differently than you do?
Why do so many of us stay where we know we’ll remain miserable?